


Beaumont

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses (2016), The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: As it has come to my attention that Edward IV seemed to have a problem with the Beaumont's I thought I would write this, gives details on why Francis Lovell lost out a lot of what he was entitled to.





	1. Chapter 1

**The Palace of Westminster  
1465**

She was not a family woman. If he recalled a single thing about her, he recalled that. She had never, in the twenty-three years he had known her, known her to be a family woman. His proof? Whenever she and his father had visited Ludlow, she had been the one to offer a cool greeting and dismiss them with their younger siblings – however old they had gotten. She had eyes for one person no longer alive to this earth…

Yes, his father was the only person he had ever known her to be close with, even if her brother Richard, the late Earl of Salisbury was one man she was fond of. Her sisters however? One would not believe they existed they were so rarely mentioned, and yet, now? It was one of those sisters which once again sparked his mother’s anger. Not that such anger phased him anymore, though it once had. She never, these past months, switched off her anger to him. Indeed, it had only intensified.

“I have seen some things in my years Edward, and I have seen you reach some low places, but never have you fallen as hard as you do today. Even when you married that whore, even that I forgave. A foolish but undoable mistake made by a stupid little boy.” He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He had learnt to be silent when his mother had her piece to say. Not that he feared her, anymore, not in the least, but that he had learnt the hard way that should you interrupt, the lecture may never stop. For now, he would take it. “You do not know your own place yet, and whilst I thought you might, I can accept the degradation you do to _yourself._ What I cannot and will not be forced to accept is the shame you bring to others. Your Aunt, Katherine, who is sixty-five years of age, to marry a nineteen year old? That alone makes me sick. Yet he is not just any nineteen year old and the insult you pay to her to make her wed that… scum against her will? You pay to me also, for she is my sister.”

“Mother-“

“You spit on my Neville blood!”  
  
“That is simply not true!”  
  
“Then why marry them?”  
  
“It’s a good match.”

“For whom? Because I see it as something neither gain from, they cannot think to have children and he has-” He looked down as something clicked in her eyes. “Money, he has no money, Edward. I should have seen that, but I did not want to believe your cousins cruel words. I did not want to believe that you had robbed her family of their inheritance, and that was your reason for this madness.”  
  
“My kin have every right to the wealth they deserve. John Woodville is now my kin and the more he gains from marriage, the less our coffers are drained-“  
  
“Do not play me for a fool Edward.” She sighed. “I know exactly what this is about, and I will tell you that I had heard rumours, which I thought were not true.”  
  
“What rumours?” He arched an eyebrow, stopping biting his nails as his mother slapped his hand down.   
  
“Do not do that!” She turned away. “This is about John Beaumont, you have been obsessed with him I heard from when you returned to Ludlow when you were twelve years old. One, which if I know you at all-“  
  
“Probably not.” He muttered, returning to biting before he winced when she slapped his hand with force, continuing as though he had said nothing.   
  
“You have not dropped that grudge.”  
  
“What of it?” Edward snapped. “I am king, I can hold grudges as I like.”  
  
“And there is not a day right now I do not wish that Edmund was alive, because then there would be someone more suited to a crown than you.” He froze, let her speak, for he had no words to put to her. “He was softer natured.” Edward scoffed. “He made more rational decisions, and he was never bloody minded.”  
  
“You did not know him as I did, clearly.”

She brushed over that comment. “Edward, John Beaumont, what did he do that was so bad?”  
  
“He spat on me, for one, then he slapped me before the court, knowing I would not be permitted to react – he did it to shame me.”

She looked at him for a moment, and he thought he saw sympathy cross her face. That was before she shook her head and sat. “I never thought your imagination was so active. Edward your father told me of what happened there, and he knocked into you.”  
  
“No-“  
  
“He knocked you to the ground, but he looked back, he waited to see you were-“  
  
“No.” He shook his head. “No. No. No. No. No. You’re wrong. You were not there.”   
  
“He spat on the ground where you had stood, and that, I agree is insulting. But your father did not do nothing, you did not see the threats the agreements-“  
  
“No!”  
  
“Edward, you cannot take this out on his family. You cannot, it does you no favours, it does not help you at all and it does not suit you.”  
  
“How would you know? When, until I had a crown upon my head, did you give me more than a moments glance? How can _you_  tell me how to run _my_ kingdom, who to give favours too or who to keep close to me?”  
  
“Then let me advise this only, keep your cousin Warwick close, for he has paid you the attention you so clearly desire – in all your vanity. He knows what is best for you, he will guide you right.”   
  
Edward just offered a nod. “May I leave now?”   
  
“That is your will, your grace.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kirby Muxlow, Leicestershire.  
She was annoyed, so very annoyed, and he could see it plain on her face. He and Katherine had never been close, their union had been one of convenience rather than love. No, he was not as lucky as Ned, did not have the passion with his wife which Ned held with Elizabeth, did not have a wife with the sheerest beauty, either. Yet he had a wife befitting of his status, not a woman more suited to being a mistress than a queen. 

No, they were not close in anything except this. In this? William Hastings and his wife Katherine held the firmest belief – things had gone too far.

Ned had decided to stick his cock in one Woodville, and now he felt the need to please them all, please them all in a move which had angered almost everyone in England. 

Even the queen.

Katherine’s namesake Aunt had been married to John Woodville – a man young enough to easily be her grandson. What was more? She had been married against her will, with many a threat from Ned’s men. What choice had she had? And what had happened since? Well, Ned had diverted the inheritance from when she died from Katherine’s own daughter to the Woodville leeches. Leeches William Hastings, despite his loyalty to his king and friend, could not stand. 

Yes, things had gone too far, but not a thing could be done about it. Not a single, God damned thing. Except silent anger – or in Katherine’s case, Will feared it may be more than silent anger, for her eyes screamed of full scale rebellion. In truth, he could not be sure she was not capable of it. For if there had ever been a group of women to put fear into the heart of men, it had been every Neville woman he had ever met. Kate was no exception.

“He has more on his mind than the Woodville’s.” She said suddenly and coolly. “He has more to think about than simply pleasing the witch. She is probably already happy, for rumour I hear is that they do not leave each other’s beds. You would know more of that than I.” Will smirked, stopped as she shot him a glance which spoke of disapproval. “I do not think it has ever been about pleasing the Woodville’s. It is about much, much more than that. It is something which runs deeper, much deeper. A hatred he cannot put out.”

“Kate-“ She did not listen to his words, he knew she would not as she continued despite his interruption.

“Once a grudge is ignited, he holds it, and he will not let go. I do not know if you know my cousin well enough-“

“Oh, I know. He may pretend he forgives, but he will never forget. Somerset learnt that the hard way.”

She shook her head. “That too should never have been allowed to happen, I did not think him so irresponsible, so incapable of reason. Thank the lord my brother is his advisor-“ Will scoffed. 

“For the good it did on the Woodville marriage.”

“That.” Katherine snapped. “Is not a marriage, but a shambles. I would not be surprised if they are living in sin.” She shook her head. “A secret marriage, a royal wedding in secret. How unconventional.”

“Ned is nothing if not unconventional.”

“I suppose he has proven that.” 

Will sighed. “What grudge does he hold that goes against your aunt? His own kin.”

“He hold’s a grudge against the Beaumont’s. John Beaumont was my aunt’s husband.” Will nodded, she told him nothing new. John Beaumont who had died at Northampton, at the hands of Warwick’s mercy. Though even Warwick had said he had not intended the Viscount to die. Had not willed it. How much had changed since then… “Well Ned hated him when he was alive, he likes him no more when he is dead. But because he cannot have his revenge on the man himself, no better than Lord Clifford? He will take it out on the son. Towton proved that.” Indeed, Will remembered when William Beaumont had escaped Ned’s grasp – the anger, the fury blown out of all proportion. “Well he cannot humiliate William Beaumont, so he will do the next best thing.”

And humiliate Beaumont’s widow, his remaining family….

An insult to a dead man which would sting more than death itself…

That was why he had arranged the marriage, that was why he had bypassed the daughter’s inheritance. That was why… Christ, Ned.

“What did Beaumont do to hurt him so utterly?”

She let out a cold laugh. “Nothing in the proportion of what Ned claims. He has exaggerated it in his mind.”

“That does not quite answer my question Kate.” Will rubbed his temples, put his feet up on the table. Smiled as she sighed and walked behind him, her hands massaging his head with the right amount of gentle to stop the ache. “Beaumont spat on the ground where Ned had stood, just once, when things were tense, barged him too hard and he fell in front of his father. I saw it. Ned? The look on his face I remember it now. No twelve year old should hold such anger. But he did. Oh he did. His father? Well I think it made it worse the duke laughed and walked them both on. Of course he meant to make it better but? The humiliation Edward took from that...” she began to massage his shoulders.

“He would have revenge however that comes then.”

“Oh yes, and if he cannot have a Beaumont themselves? He will have the next best thing.”

Their money, their right, their power.


	3. Chapter 3

Middleham Castle

He had just arrived, and already the hall was filled with Warwick’s household. All gaping, wide mouthed, each wanting as much as the next to gawk at him - a captured king. A lion whose claws had been cut. Yes, but he still had teeth. He would play the game for now, would not claw at posts but instead? He’d wait until the most opportune moment to bite. For now, he sighed, straightening his hat as though none of this phased him. As though he did not care. 

Keeping up appearances, saving face, saving dignity. 

It was this show which made Warwick look indignant as Edward approached the line of young boys, each muttering under their breaths until he was just an inch away. His hand extended. “What’s your name lad?”

“Thomas, sir.”

“Pleased to meet you Thomas. And yours?”

“John, sir.”

“Peter, your grace.”

“Adam.”

“Francis.” The boy before him spoke with a confidence which did not match his size. A small lad he recognised without a blink. He looked like his grandfather. down to the last feature. He was Joan Beaumont’s son. Yes, a traitor to the last. He should have known to keep quiet, yet his confidence was too bold. His eyes spoke of something... something of a slight arrogance. A taunting arrogance. 

“My brother Richard’s friend if I am not much mistaken?”

“Yes, your grace.” The boy grinned, his eyes fiery of a sudden. Yes, that was why he was so bold. As though Richard held the same thoughts as a king? Edward bit his lip, stopped himself from laughing out. He clapped the boy on the back, walked on. 

“I think that’s quite enough.” Warwick’s bark made Edward grin as he spun on his heels. 

“My Lord?”

“I said enough! George will show you to your rooms.”

“But I was merely getting to know-“

“That, your grace, is not your place.” 

“Very well. Who am I to refuse the might of the earl of Warwick?” The last words were followed by a wink. A gesture which, Edward saw to his delight, brought fury to the earl. 

***

His rooms had been nice enough, yet he had only been able to ruminate. Ruminate on the mockery made of him, not once in his life, not simply now by his captivity. He recalled a time, all too long ago now. His first visit to that court of toxicity. When Margaret, that bitch of Anjou, the she wolf had looked down her nose on him. If she had not shamed herself to spit on the ground where he stood? He was sure she would have. 

Some however were not so refined as to refuse their desires. John Beaumont. His eyes closed, heart pounding with anger as he thought on it. When that swine of a viscount had cornered him, before his father. Shamed him, he had not refused to spit at him, and yet it was not that which had hurt his pride. For could he not have simply spat back? 

No, the viscount had not hesitated to slap his glove around Edward’s face and to shame him further? His father had pulled him away before he could even draw his sword. 

And when honour could have been satisfied? When at Northampton, mockery could have been undone? It was Warwick, fucking Warwick who had delivered the lethal thrust. 

Could it have been worse? But of course, Beaumont’s brat William? He had been the king’s own prisoner at Towton, yes, Edward had got his hands on the swine and would he not have killed him for the insult done by his father? Was that not practice? If Clifford was aught to go by. 

And yet... before Edward had got to see the fear in his eyes? Beaumont had escaped, aided by someone Edward was sure...

His thoughts were invaded by his sight. Francis Lovell walked before him carrying a pile of books. “God forbid you should drop them.” Edward muttered. 

“Your grace?” The boy looked confused.

“I said, god forbid you drop them. Warwick would be irked indeed.”

“I will not your grace, I thank you for your concern.” 

The boy winced as Edward flicked the top one onto the floor with a crash. 

“Since your speechless, let me take this opportunity to tell you? Your uncle, if you should ever make contact with him? He is far from forgiven. So very far from it. He never will be. And you? You should never I will never forget a wrong done me, nor a grudge.”

“I do not understand.”

“You will, in time, and my brothers love? That will not protect you much. It will not shelter you from the storm.”

“My Lord.” Warwick’s voice made the king jump. “You can pick that up, and if it is damaged? Know too, that I, never forget a grudge.”


	4. Chapter 4

Windsor Castle   
December 1478

“Fuck!” Richard kicked the chair, breaking it. Even Edward jumped, though he held up an arm, stopping William Hastings from moving forward. Edward shook his head, frowning as his brother turned back to him. “Don’t you fucking dare act like you have the right to act like the victim. You, are not the victim!” Richard wanted to curse, he wanted to scream louder and yet he brought his voice under control. “You somehow manage to twist it every time, so people think you are, but I see it, Edward, I see right through you.” 

“Richard-“

“No. You manipulate, and desecrate. Is there a thing that you touch you do not ruin?”

***  
Richard had barely set foot into the palace when he had been ambushed by girls. Screaming little girls. “Uncle Dickon!!” They all screeched.

“Dickon!” Edward’s voice overpowered them all as he strode toward his younger brother, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward embrace. Richard did not return the gesture. Not after all that had happened, bitter events still fresh in the mind. “I had some wine brought from France for Christmas. I think, perhaps, we could start the festivities together, as old times.”

“As old times.” Richard muttered, walking as his brother guided him away from the children. In truth? Richard knew he felt nothing but a hatred he had never experienced. An anger which was all consuming as his brother came closer in proximity. Yet, despite temptation? Richard knew he must do nothing. Must say nothing. Not yet. Not yet. 

William Hastings was sat in Ned’s presence chamber when they entered. Elizabeth Shore, the merchants wife, sat sewing by the window. 

“Ned.” Richard whispered. “I do not think I have the patience for this.” He turned, ready to walk out. To leave the castle and return north. 

“Nonsense.” 

“Then remove your whore.”

Edward bit his lip to hide irritation, irritation Richard saw plain on his face like writing in a book. “Very well, darling, would you entertain yourself in the presence of ladies? Tonight will be just men.”

Making his point clear, William Hastings would not be the next to leave. Whatever Ned intended to discuss, whatever he knew Richard might want to discuss. The Lord chamberlain, that loyal and trusted bitch of Ned’s, he would be witness to it all. 

Very well, if needs must. Who was he to protest?

Richard sighed as he took the seat offered to him. “I can read it on your face Richard, you never could hide your feelings. It will be like Will is not even here.”

Then why was he?

“You are not yourself.” Edward continued, stating it as though there was no plausible reason behind his statement. 

“Should I be? Or must I also mask all I think from you?”

“Richard?” Edward arched an eyebrow.

“George was silent for many years after Warwick, for he dare not question you. It was only when you grew too greedy that he dared open his mouth and he lost his life for it.”

“No, he lost his life for treason.”

“Pah.” Richard exclaimed. “And is it not the same thing to you? He who questions your decisions, your actions, your authority and those who wish your death?”

“George wished my death! And he planned it!” Richard eyes widened as his brother wiped his eyes. Eyes widened as he saw for the first time since Burgundy that his brother shed tears. “Do you think I wanted this? Any of this? Do you think I had a choice?”

“Yes, and yes. You had a choice, and you wanted this. You wanted the pain, you wanted the attention and you wanted people to fear you.” Richard shook his head. “Well know this. I don’t fear you, I am not scared or intimidated and I will not tow the line. I’m embarrassed, I’m ashamed and I’m disappointed. Papa? He would turn in his grave for what you have done. And as ma mere? Well, you’re lucky if you do not send her to hers for she wishes for it!”

Richards hand slammed on the table as tears became sobs, audible sobs. “Don’t! Just don’t.” 

“Ric-“

“Fuck!” Richard kicked the chair, breaking it. Even Edward jumped, though he held up an arm, stopping William Hastings from moving forward. Edward shook his head, frowning as his brother turned back to him. “Don’t you fucking dare act like you have the right to act like the victim. You, are not the victim!” Richard wanted to curse, he wanted to scream louder and yet he brought his voice under control. “You somehow manage to twist it every time, so people think you are, but I see it, Edward, I see right through you.” 

“Richard-“

“No. You manipulate, and desecrate. Is there a thing that you touch you do not ruin?” The tears stopped and an ice cold anger filled the king’s eyes. Richard knew he’d gone far enough, yet he did not stop. “You punish those who don’t deserve it. Not just George, John Howard, have you not robbed him? And Francis-“

“Don’t bring him into it!”

“You’ve always hated him and why? He is loyal.”

“I warned you off him! When I left Middleham I warned you off him and you did not listen. He’s a Beaumont and a Lovell, he was born a traitor raised by a traitor and he will turn traitor and Christ, Richard, if I don’t know that will hurt you.”

“Don’t. Pretend. You. Give. A. Single. Fuck.” Richard panted. “Just don’t.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Palace of Westminster  
1454

John Beaumont was surrounded by men, faces he knew, faces he did not. Not that such mattered, he was a natural he knew, an old dog to these affairs. Commotion at court was hardly new, and was certainly increasing. Since York had begun to throw his weight around...

Commotion Now was stirring in the halls. Every breath was filled with it, and why? Because York had brought his brat to court. Brought him to prove a point - he had a son. A healthy son, someone to succeed him. And more besides. 

A position which surely meant only one thing? Already rumours were flying around court that York would claim his lineage and attempt to take the throne. That would not be hard, some would say it would be for the better. And what did he think? John frowned as he watched those who milled around the corridors as though it were just another day, another week. As though nothing significant were about to happen.

What did he think? 

Henry of course was king, but a weak position. Incapacitated with half the men of England arguing over who should take charge of him, as though he were a child. Henry had a son, an infant boy, but was he indeed Henry’s? All had come under such suspicious circumstances, born under an imbecile king, deluded to the extreme, and supposedly conceived by a man with no more interest in carnal activities than a monk. Less, perhaps, than the pope. What was he supposed to think?

What he did not know was that it did not matter. Perhaps, he thought for a moment, it was for the best of all did simply believe the queen in her pleas of the child’s legitimacy, however unlikely they were. It would only make the king’s position stronger - and should they never forget that Henry was the rightful king.

His eyes fixed on the boy as he entered the corridor, followed by several other children, his hair turning brown from the blonde John knew it once had been. Edward of March had grown much since he had last seen the boy. Some many years ago before the Duke had left for Ireland. He would not exceed John’s shoulder in height, and already he had the build to rival many men. The arrogance too John was sure, it was apparent in his walk. On some you could see it, on others you could smell it from a mile away. “Isn’t he an arrogant swine?” Beaufort’s voice made John jump. The Duke of Somerset had ever had a rivalry with York, and Beaumont was sure he would not give the son mercy. That was why John frowned. Edward of March was growing closer. 

“He’s arrogant, but what boy that age isn’t?”

“I should knock him down a step.”

“No, you should not. You have rumours against your name which will all too willingly use against you. Do not lay hand on his son.” Somerset shook his head. “If you must have anyone do it, then let me knock him down a step.” Somerset spat on the ground, his only indication that the Earl of March stood just behind them. To John’s embarrassment the boy had stopped dead, eyes fixed on him. 

“My Lord?” Edward spoke on a voice still cracking with the tones of boyhood. A faint smudge of facial hair visible on his upper lip. Somerset smirked, clapped John on the back, that was before the youth spoke again. “I shall tell my father you want to knock me down a step, then you shall be knocked down two. That’s if I don’t knock you down three before.” 

Beaumont had been about to explain, about to say the young earl had misunderstood when men began to run from the king’s chambers, barking orders. Edward spun on his feet as he heard his father’s roar of irritation, he was followed closely by the Queen.

“Move.” Somerset pushed the boy into the wall as he charged toward the scene. “Maggie!”

“Make yourself useful.” Beaumont said to the boy as Edward began to make for his father. “Stop leeching onto your father, and go away.” The advice, john knew was given in kind. The boy would not be thankful for his fathers reaction to him now, and York did not need him. Besides, was it not befitting of a young man of twelve years to be of his own will? To be free of the constant seeking of approval, the need to follow like a sheep?


End file.
